The Essence of Silver
by Duckett-1
Summary: Armelle is a sixteen year old girl living at the edge of Du Weldenvarden. Very little about her would be considered normal; she is half elf, and the daughter of two Dragon Riders. Her mother was killed by Morzan when she was a child and her father's dragon was killed. When Armelle finds her own dragon egg while hunting outside Osilon, she embarks on a journey with her new friends.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi readers! Thought you should know the only characters in this I own are Armelle, her father, and the egg she finds, which you'll find out more about later. The rest belongs to Chris Paolini, the guy that made me want to start writing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Leave reviews please!**

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Armelle stood miles from her house, looking around the thick forest surrounding Osilon. She looked around with eyes the color of liquid silver, a wooden bow loose in her grip as she trotted through the woods with noiseless steps, avoiding fallen sticks and crunching leaves beneath her feet. She paused, her golden strands of hair pulled back tightly, though her bangs fell into her eyes messily. She had a black hood pulled over her blonde hair, concealing it from her possible prey. She had traveled far to get there, though she was still within the edges of Du Weldenvarden, and the elves had only permitted her to hunt if she went to the edge of their never-ending forest.

The forest was silent for long moments as she leaned against a tree, silver eyes sharp as she looked around. She moved forward when she spotted a young doe grazing about twenty-five yards away.

She drew her bow back, aiming for the doe. She stepped one foot forward into an easier, stronger stance, but her foot slipped on something hard, like a smooth rock. Her arrow slid into the ground down to the feathers, and the door looked up with large brown eyes, hearing the soft thud of Armelle's knee impacting the ground. The hunter nocked a second arrow, firing it off quickly, and, as the door fell, she turned to look at what she had fallen over.

A large shimmering stone of silver, breaking in color only to show white veins webbing across the surface, buried partly under the soil. She couldn't stop the sudden urge to dig it up and take it home to show her father, and, though she knew it was never a good idea to take things so far from her home, she did exactly what she thought foolish. She tugged the stone from the ground, cleaning off the silver object and sliding it into her animal skin hunting bag.

She moved toward the deer, and brought it to her home, through the miles of the thick woods between the edge and the outskirts of Osilon, where her home rested.

* * *

Armelle's father was waiting for her in front of the door. She smiled toward him and moved to help her with the dead doe. Together they skinned it, and the teenage girl took the skins to make bags, pouches, and leather clothing. As she did, she remembered the silver stone in her bag.

She pulled it out and left her room. "Father," she said as she moved forward. "Look what I found in the forest."

He looked it over carefully, his golden blonde hair which matched hers, though his was graying, hanging messily over his forehead as his head swung. His hazel eyes widened as he looked over the stone.

"You found this in the forest?" He asked slowly.

Armelle nodded.

"This is not a stone, my dear," her father informed quietly. He looked at his daughter again, meeting her silver eyes. She had his hair, but she was much like her mother. Her mother was an elf; she inherited her athletic build, strength, speed, and was at her full height of 5'10", far taller than the average human female, at her young age of sixteen. Her eyes were slanted, but unless you knew she had elven blood you would never guess it was from that, and she carried the proud and graceful looks of an elf, her ears even pointed like those of the elves. But her mother hadn't only been an elf, she was a Dragon Rider, as her father had once been before his dragon was killed by the Forsworn leader, Morzan.

"Then what is it, Father?" Armelle asked, raising a blonde eyebrow.

"You have found a dragon egg," he breathed in disbelief, "but how?"

the sixteen year old tensed. "I... I tripped over it. And then I just felt as though I needed to bring it home with me."

"Take it back to your room, and pack lightly." Her father said firmly. "We must leave."

"Where are we going?" Armelle asked, frowning.

"To see an old friend of mine, and your mother's. Bring the egg."

She nodded and went back to her room. She took her hunting pack and a larger pack, and piled as many of her things inside as she could, stringing on her bow and quiver once she was finished. She meet her father outside their small home, where they saddled their horses and filled their saddlebags as best they could with rations and water skins before climbing into the leather saddles and leaving their home behind.

Armelle's horse, a young golden filly she had owned for two years which she had named Dana, was padding the ground with her hoof, her ivory mane gleaming in the sunlight lines from the shaded barn's roof.

"Hey, Dana," Armelle cooed gently to the filly. "We're going on a trip."

She climbed into the horse's saddle, hiding the silver egg in the saddlebag on the right side of her saddle, and cantering out of the barn atop the golden horse. Her father had saddled his massive black stallion, Mordor, and was waiting for her outside. She nodded to her father and he turned Mordor around and they rode toward the edge of the woods at a full gallop.

Dana's legs were long and steps fast, but she had difficulty keeping up with Mordor, as he was a war horse and best suited for lengthy trips and fast rides. By nightfall, Armelle and her father had traveled far from Du Weldenvarden and had just reached the edge of Ceunon. They settled down to camp outside the town.

"If we keep the pace we had today," her father said, cooking meat for their meal over a small fire. "We should arrive in Carvahall in two days time."

She nodded slowly. It had been a long day of riding, and like her horse, she was exhausted. She had an elf's endurance, but hunting before sunrise until nearly noon, and then arriving at home only to leave again and ride on horseback for such a long distance would tire nearly anyone.

"Rest, Armelle." Her father said gently, his hazel eyes soft. "I will wake you when the food is done."

She nodded and laid on the ground, but couldn't help herself as she pulled the silver egg from her saddlebag. She laid it beside her and quickly fell asleep.

As her father promised, he woke her when the food was done, and she ate, and then she and her father slept.

She awoke to the sound of cracking beside her head, and opened her silver eyes to see a long, thick crack running over the egg's surface.

Armelle gasped and scrambled backwards. Was it... hatching?

her father stirred at the sound, but never woke.

A silver bat-like wing stretched from the egg after a chunk of the shell blew out, and the piece tumbled across the forest floor. A small scaly head poked out of the larger hole next, looking around with silver eyes the same color as its shimmering scales. The small creature climbed out of the broken shell, falling down and letting out a small squeak of annoyance when its silver scales collected dirt as they scraped the ground.

Armelle let out a small, quiet chuckle.

The dragon hatchling turned and looked at her, eyes bright. It walked forward, in the direction of her slender fingers.

The sixteen year old reached out to it slowly, the dying fire casting amber shadows in her golden hair and silver eyes, as it did across the dragon's metallic scales.

The hatchling poked its nose against Armelle's left palm, and horrible pain coursed through her body, starting in her hand and spreading. Her blood turned to ice water, her muscles frozen as blocks of ice. She gasped loudly, and the dragon cocked its head and looked at her strangely.

She jerked her hand back toward herd, looking at her left hand. A silver scar-like mark ran across her palm. She had seen it before. Her father had one, though it was faded, and so had her mother. The mark of a Dragon Rider.

The hatchling inched toward her slowly. It was a beautiful creature; silver scales that glowed with amber light from the dying fire, eyes of the same metallic shade, eyes that matched Armelle's own. It had a triangular head with rows of sharp teeth, and silvery wings of leathery looks and feel, with blue veins running through them in webbing patterns. Together the wings were much longer than the hatchling's body, made for flight and to support her weight.

"I suppose you and I are one now," the half-elf whispered to the dragon. "But you need a name. Are you male or female?"

The hatchling let out a gentle purr-like growl, nudging her leg.

"Female?" Armelle asked in confirmation, and the dragon... nodded? Yes, it had most certainly nodded. "Alright, now what to name you..." She sat in though for a moment, looking over the hatchling's silver coloring.

"Argenta," she decided, smiling at the newly hatched creature. "How about that?"

The hatchling seemed satisfied.

"Then that is what your name will be." Armelle determined quietly.

Argenta walked toward her and curled up against her leg, the hatchling's spiked tail curling around a sapling Armelle was stationed next to.

* * *

The next morning, Armelle was shaken awake by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She opened her silver eyes and looked up at her father, who, with his hand that wasn't shaking her awake, was petting Argenta.

"It appears she chose you," her father said gently. "You should be proud. Though I didn't expect her to hatch so soon."

"Perhaps she was impatient to see the world," Armelle replied sleepily, sitting up and brushing leaves and twigs from her golden hair with her slender fingers.

Argenta nipped at the toe of her boot, annoyed.

The half-elf chuckled and reached out for the silver hatchling.

Argenta scampered forward and nudged Armelle's hand with her snout, sending a tingling sensation up the girl's arm.

Armelle looked up to her father. "How will we travel with her?"

Her father looked thoughtful for a moment, glancing at her saddle. "Empty one of your saddlebags and she should fit. It will draw less attention should we meet anyone on the road to Carvahall.

She nodded and stood, brushing herself off as she moved toward Dana and cleaned out the saddlebag on the right side of her leather saddle. She transferred all of her other belongings to the left side saddlebag or into the buckskin pack she had constructed from the last deer she had taken down on the hunt.

Argenta climbed a tree, standing on a branch above them for a moment before she snapped out her silver wings and floated down from the tree, and landed on Mordor, who only nickered in annoyance and stomped his large black front hooves.

 _He must remember dragons,_ the sixteen year old decided, as it wasn't that long ago when her mother and father still had their own. Her mother was killed when she was only an infant, by the last of the Forsworn, Morzan. When her father went to avenge her death, his dragon was killed by Morzan's own.

Armelle shook herself from her thoughts, and smiled at her silver hatchling. "Wrong horse, silly." She chided with a laugh.

Argenta tilted her head and hopped across the horses, but the half-elf caught her in her arms before the hatchling landed on Dana.

"She's a bit skittish," Armelle warned the dragon. "I wouldn't do that if we ever want to catch her again."

Her father chuckled. "You're treating her like a toddler," He stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, she only hatched last night," Armelle argued, slipping the dragon into the right side saddlebag.

Argenta poked her head out, the tip of her spiked tail hanging out as well as she blew a small puff of smoke from her nostrils in protest.

Armelle rolled her silver eyes before pulling herself into Dana's saddle.

"It could get bumpy," she warned before her father pulled himself into Mordor's saddle and urged him into a canter.

Dana followed, and before long they were galloping into the Spine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi lovely readers! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter (did you catch my Lord of the Rings reference?), and I'll do my best to update regularly (I sort of suck at that. I'm never home!). I only own Armelle, Argenta, and Armelle's father, the rest belong to Chris Paolini. Enjoy!**

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They arrived outside Carvahall, in a small place called Palancar Valley, two evenings after they entered the Spine. A small farm sat comfortably in the valley, and with her elven vision, Armelle saw a boy returning from a hunt. He carried a bow and quiver, but no meat. He held a stone that looked much like Argenta's egg had, only the coloring was bright, sapphire blue with white veins coursing through it.

 _He could be another Rider,_ Armelle thought in shock. _But how did the eggs become so separated?_

Argenta poked her head out of the saddlebag, their slowing pace seeming to haven shaken her awake from a nap. She squeaked in annoyance.

The half-elf chuckled, pulling the black hood of her cloak over her tied back golden hair and her pointed ears. She tucked her cloak tighter around her body, protecting herself from the biting winter breeze.

Her father glanced at her with soft eyes before urging Mordor forward, and he trotted down the hill. She had Dana follow, nudging Argenta's head back into the saddlebag gently.

"Excuse me," her father called, slowing his massive black horse to stop beside the boy with the dragon egg, who was walking back to his small farmhouse. "Do you know where I can find an old man named Brom?"

Armelle stopped beside him, her hood shading her eyes so the boy couldn't see their exotic color.

"In town, a mile that way." The boy pointed up the other side of the steep valley. "He is usually sitting on the porch of his house, smoking his pipe."

"Thank you," her father replied with an appreciative nod, and urged Mordor forward again.

Armelle followed, Dana struggling to keep up with the war horse traveling up the side of the valley.

She dismounted her horse, taking most of the weight off of Dana so the golden horse could save energy and wouldn't struggle up the hill. She walked beside the horse, following the tracks left behind by Mordor. She made her way up, Argenta repeatedly poking her head out of the saddlebag and attempting to climb out, though continuously failing, caused by the buckle on the bag.

Armelle stopped beside her father when she caught up, whispering assurances to her wheezing filly. He was speaking in murmurs to an old man with white hair and beard, and a hooked nose like an eagle's beak. Her hair and eyes were still shielded from sight, but her graceful, elf-like builf could be seen from beneath her cloak. She was careful to keep her gloves, which revealed the upper halves of her fingers, callused from hunting, over the silver scar that marked her a Rider.

"Come inside, both of you." The old man said gruffly, looking at Armelle with an almost curious gaze. "I will tend to the horses."

"No," Armelle said quickly, too quickly. "My filly doesn't do well with others." She amended, calmer.

"I see," the old man said with one of his thick eyebrows raised. "Very well. Tend to your filly, but I, as a host, feel obligated to take at least one horse."

Her father chuckled. "Brom, your hospitality never fails."

The old man, Brom, made a gruff noise and nodded, taking Mordor's reins. "Come," he told Armelle, "I will lead you to the stables we shall use for your animals."

Armelle nodded and followed him toward stables that she suspected weren't his own.

He stopped and spoke in murmurs to a large man wearing a leather apron, presumably the blacksmith. He nodded and opened his stables to allow them to lead the horses inside.

She walked Dana into the stable gingerly, unbuckling her saddlebags from their station on her leather saddle to take them with her, concealing Argenta's squeak with a coughing fit before excusing herself and removing the rest of her saddle and excusing herself and leaving with her saddlebags.

"What's your name, girl?" Brom asked, raising a wild white eyebrow at her.

She looked at him warily.

He scoffed. "Do not be foolish, child. Your father and I have been comrades since long before you were born, and I knew your mother as well. There is some information I will not share without permission, and this is one of them."

"Armelle," she replied quietly, her left hand, her marked hand, clenching into a fist from her wariness. Her hood was still up, hiding her silver eyes while Argenta twitched in the saddlebag, sensing the half-elf's agitation.

"You cannot stay concealed the entire course of your visit here." Brom said, his voice gentler. "Come. At my home you may rest, and we shall discuss some things there, in private."

"Like?" Armelle asked defensively, clutching her saddlebag closer to her side.

"I will not say here," Brom replied, his voice gruff once again.

Armelle stood a little straighter. "Very well."

He led her back to his home in silence.

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 **This chapter's way shorter than the first one, but I'm pretty sure most will be the length of the first or more. There's just so much stuff, and all of the stuff happening now is from my brain, and not in _Eragon_. Oh well. Leave reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello my amazing readers! I do not own** ** _Eragon_** **or any of its characters, only my OC ones. I don't think I mentioned in my summary that this will be a Murtagh/OC fic. Oh well, now you know. Btw, I just came up for the idea of this fanfic while reading** ** _Eragon_** **for the fifth time. Murtagh just seemed too lonely, and he's always been my favorite.**

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When they walked in, Armelle's father was lounging in a high backed wood chair with legs carved neatly, down to eagle talons cupping a wooden ball at the end of each leg. The chair was covered in patterned leather at its cushions, and her father looked at home in the chair, which was probably more expensive than anything they had in their home outside of Osilon. The room was dark, lit only by a few candles in the corners of the room that each casted a flickering warm light around the room, projecting large, deformed humanoid shadowed shapes on the walls.

Her father smiled and stood, pushing the chair across the wood flooring of Brom's home as he did, and walked toward his daughter. He pushed down the hood of her black cloak, revealing her tied up gold hair and silver eyes for the first time to Brom. He kissed her forehead, murmuring simple questions like "How are the horses?" and "Are you alright?" as he had noticed her defensiveness of her belongings. She answered them truthfully as Brom examined the girl. She was tall, lean, eluding to her elven strength, and built otherwise like an elf. Her silver eyes were remarkable, and something Brom knew she had inherited from her mother, who was the only elf Brom had ever seen with eyes of the pure white metallic color. Her hair was golden, like that of her father's, and she had pointed ears, though they weren't as sharp as a full elf's. Her silver eyes were partly slanted like an elf's, though only noticeable if you knew of her bloodline. If she were to go out hoodless or cloak-less, she would have to keep her hair down.

"Enjoying my chair, Devon?" Brom asked Armelle's father when he finished his quick questioning of his daughter.

Her father looked sheepish. "I haven't seen one of its fine make in quite a long time, Brom. I just had to sit in it and marvel."

Brom and her father clasped hands in a brotherly greeting, they way they had been when Armelle had first seen them.

"Is there a place Armelle can put her things?" Her father asked quietly.

"I have a spare room in the back she may use. You may have mine." Brom replied, sending a pointed look directed down a hall leading to the back of his house.

"I won't take it," her father protested.

"You are my guests, and I cannot in good conscience make one of you sleep on a piece of furniture that is not a bed." Brom argued, shaking his head.

"I'll do it," Armelle volunteered from behind her father. "I am the smallest. It would be easiest for me to take a chair. Father can have your guest room."

Her father frowned, about to protest before Brom cut him off. "Quite selfless, your girl seems. You've raised her right."

"That selflessness has little to do with me." Her father corrected, meeting his daughter's silver gaze and sighing. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "If I can keep my belongings in the guest room, near yours, I am positive."

Her father nodded and glanced at Brom. "Very well. Put your things away, all but your larger saddlebag."

She knew by his glance what they were doing, and she didn't like it, but she obeyed. She took off her cloak by its silver latch, the cloak which had belonged to her mother, and carefully folded it with her things.

Argenta poked her head out of the saddlebag and nudged Armelle's leg with her silver snout.

Armelle smiled and stroked her head for a moment. "You have to go back in, Argenta." She whispered to the hatchling. "I'll let you out in a moment. I promise."

Argenta squeaked in reply before slipping her head back inside.

The teenager arranged her things neatly in the corner, beside where her father had placed his. She carried her saddlebag back out, making a mental note to make a strap for it just in case she had to carry it like she currently was in the future.

When she walked back out, Brom was now sitting in the elegantly carved chair, puffing smoke rings from a pipe. She tried not to cough; she had the enhanced senses of an elf, and of that her sense of smell was included. She sat in a chair that was close to her father's, still holding the saddlebag defensively.

"Armelle," her father said gently, looking at his daughter with hazel eyes that matched his tone. "Open the bag, and removes your gloves. Brom can be trusted."

She took a deep, trembling breath, and pulled off her half-fingered gloves. The silver mark glowed against her callused left palm in the dim candlelight.

"The gedwëy ignasia," Brom breathed in shock, eyes wide under thick eyebrows. "Where then, Devon, is her dragon?"

Her father looked at her and nodded.

She unclipped the latch on her saddlebag and Argenta's head shot out of the opening, the hatchling scrambling to freedom. She fell into Armelle's lap while the half-elf placed the saddlebag aside. Argenta stretched, her wings spreading to over double her small body length as she shook out her stiffness.

Brom chuckled. "What of food?" He asked once his expression sobered. "Has it been eating enough?"

"I have given her all of my meat rations on the journey here," Armelle replied as the dragon snuggled into her lap. "And some small animals I managed to hunt through the Spine when we entered."

"Good," Brom replied with a single nod. "You said 'she'. Do you know for sure if the dragon is female?"

Armelle nodded.

"Is she already speaking?" He asked, sounding curious.

"No," Armelle replied quietly, "but it felt wrong not to try and discover her gender. I asked her, and she nudged at my leg. I then asked her if that meant female, and she nodded."

Brom was nodding slowly; apparently nodding dragons weren't such an odd thing to hear about. "How long has it been since she hatched?"

"Two days," Armelle's father answered for her while her attention was directed at the silver dragon in her lap.

"Hmmm..." The older man replied thoughtfully. "She seems small."

Argenta squeaked at him, annoyed by such an insult.

Armelle smiled at the hatchling.

"It could be possible her egg was small," Brom suggested, looking between the half-elf and her human father.

"It did seem smaller than most I remember." Her father agreed. "But that should not stunt her growth."

"Indeed," Brom stated in his gruff tone, directing his next words to Armelle. "She may grow quicker until she catches up to where she should be."

She nodded.

"But we must find somewhere for her to roam free. Dragons are not meant to be kept indoors, and she will quickly outgrow this place as it is." Her father commented.

"What if she stayed in the Spine?" Armelle suggested, her silver eyes taking on an amber tint in the flickering candlelight. "Could I find her?"

Both of the old men nodded.

"Soon she will be of age where you can communicate with each other in thought," Brom replied. "Until then, I wouldn't let her go too far from a single area."

Armelle nodded again.

"You may take her out," her father said quietly, "but be careful not to draw attention."

The half-elf nodded, standing while holding the silver hatchling in her arms. She walked back to the guest room, grabbing her cloak and pulling down her hair. The thick gold strands were wavy with lumps from the tight bun it had been in, but hung around her face and framed her pointed ears. She snatched up her bow and quiver, throwing both over her shoulders to be strapped across her body, and slipped out of the back door. Argenta stayed curled in Armelle's arms as she walked toward the valley they entered Carvahall through. She walked down Palancar Valley, and she saw the boy with the blue "stone" watching her curiously as jogged toward the Spine.

She found a large oak tree with roots weaving in and out of the ground, a hole where they had split stretching higher and deeper into the trunk. Armelle smiled and sat against a thick root, which was wound through the ground, and placed Argenta on the ground beside her.

The hatchling stirred, blinking her large silver eyes as she woke up, her silver scales glittering as if she were built from layers of freshly polished coins.

"Did you have a nice nap?" The half-elf asked, smiling at her gently.

Argenta gave a toothy expression that almost matched a smile.

Armelle chuckled. "You're going to stay here, okay?" She informed the dragon. "It will attract too much attention if you stay in town with me, but I promise to visit you daily."

She didn't seem too happy about being left alone.

"You'll be alright." Armelle assured. "I'll bring you food if I must, and you'll be free to fly once you're old enough. The tree will provide you good shelter until you grow out of it, and by then, we may be able to go home again."

The hatchling didn't seem convinced, but made no noise of protest.

The teen stroked the scales above Argenta's eyes gently, calmly sitting with the hatchling, chatting with her and getting wordless replies.

Close to sundown, Armelle left the Spine and Argenta, and headed back toward Brom's home. As she entered Palancar Valley, the boy they had met going into Carvahall was standing by his home.

He looked over at her and smiled, seeming curious about the new stranger before walking forward.

She quickly made sure her blonde hair covered her ears.

"Hello," the boy said when he stopped beside her. There was a bulging object inside of a buckskin bag hanging from his shoulder. "Weren't you one of the riders that came in looking for the old storyteller, Brom?"

She nodded. "How did you know?"

"I recognized your cloak," he replied in a simple tone, smiling at her again. My name'x Eragon, by the way. Brom and I are friends."

She smiled back. "My name is Armelle. It was good to meet you, Eragon. I feel as though we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other while I'm here."

He nodded in agreement. "Good to meet you too, Armelle. And I feel the same way."

She left the valley as Eragon walked back toward his home, and she thought she had just made an important friend.

* * *

 **She just met Eragon! Yay! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry if they seem slow right now, it'll pick up, just like the book did.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey readers! Again, I don't own** ** _Eragon_** **or any of its characters. Only my OCs. Hope you enjoy!**

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In the months Armelle and her father stayed in Carvahall, she had had made close friends with Eragon, acquainted herself with his cousin, Roran, and Argenta had grown to the size of a large horse within the first to months of her her hatched life, with their shoulders at an even level, though according to Brom, she was still small. Eragon had showed her the egg he had, but her father had advised her not to tell him it was an egg, to let him keep believing it was a large carved stone. Eragon continuously tried to sell it to merchants traveling through Carvahall, but none would take it, for they didn't know the value. Armelle's daily schedule rarely changed; she would hunt with Eragon in the Spine of the mornings, sell the meat to Sloane, the town's wretched butcher, and afterwards she would help Eragon or spend time with Argenta, which she did daily as promised.

Armelle waited excitedly for the day Argenta would be large enough to fly with. She had stopped bringing the silver dragon food because she could never bring enough to satisfy her hunger and Argenta had started hunting for herself. She was growing large enough for the half-elf to lean against comfortably, warmed in the chilling air with the fire in Argenta's belly. She found a comfortable place to sit leaning against her, between the bend of Argenta's back leg and hip, and when they would talk Armelle found herself giving secrets to her sister-of-heart-and-mind that she would never dream of telling others.

She bad walking through town one day with Eragon, as he was doing chores for his uncle, Garrow, when she heard a happy call from Argenta.

 _Armelle!_ She cried, the sound lit with happiness. _Oh, you will never believe it. There is a hatchling here. A dragon hatchling. I am no longer alone!_

Armelle smiled, replying in thought. _Good, though the egg wouldn't hatch without a Rider, would it? I wonder who the new Rider is..._ she recalled what Brom and her father had told her; she was the first in a new generation of Dragon Riders, and she was in grave danger from the king because of it. When Brom informed her that her only choices were to join the Varden for sanctuary or to join Galbatorix's forces, her father hadn't taken it well. All he had ever wanted was her safety. Argenta watched the memory as Armelle relived it.

"Armelle?" Eragon called, whistling as he waved a gloved hand in front of her face.

She blinked her silver eyes a few times as she looked at him. "I'm sorry," she sounded sheepish, "I got lost in my own thoughts."

Eragon smiled, shrugging. "It's perfectly alright. I do it too. I was just telling you that we have arrived at Horst's and if you want you can visit your filly."

Armelle smiled and nodded. "Retrieve me when you are ready to leave." She stated before dashing toward the stables and unlatching the door. She pulled the large wooden door open and Dana and Mordor whinnied at the sight of her. She stroked Dana's golden muzzle, whispering to her gently. She stayed with the horses until Eragon poked his head in, calling that he was finished with his chore here. She whispered goodbyes to Mordor and Dana before leaving and pushing the barn door closed.

"Are you going to the Spine again this afternoon?" Eragon asked, glancing at Armelle from the corner of his eye.

She nodded. "As always."

He smiled. "I might accompany you. There are some... things I must tend to."

She raised an eyebrow. "Like?"

He said nothing.

"Like secret things." Armelle confirmed to herself. She adjusted her half-fingered gloves, the gedwëy ignasia on her left palm itching uncomfortably.

Eragon sent her a sheepish glance.

"I have a compromise," she said quietly. "I'll tell you my secret of why I always run off to the Spine, if you tell me your secret of why you need to be there today."

He looked wary, but nodded.

She felt Argenta's a quick pang of anxiety.

She looked up at the position of the sun; it's was almost noon. "Come on," she said, taking his gloved hand and dashing out of town.

She pulled him at her quick speed into the Spine, letting his hand go when they were close to Argenta's tree. "Take your gloves off." She ordered him, her silver eyes glittering with the firmness of her tone.

He looked wary again, but did as she said while she pulled off her half-fingered gloves at the same time.

He held them out to her, palms facing downward.

She took his thumbs in her hands and turned his gently, and on his right hand was the gedwëy ignasia.

Her silver eyes widened. "You... You're the new Rider?"

His cheeks flourished with bright crimson color. "Please don't tell anyone. Please."

"I won't," she said gently, clasping both of her slender fingered hands around his right hand. "I swear on my life I will hold your secret." She released his hand, moving her left hand so he could see her own Rider's mark.

"You... You're a Rider too?" Eragon asked, taking her wrist gently in his hand.

She nodded. "That was the secret I was going to tell you. I suspected you were as well. I noticed that you started wearing gloves constantly or always rubbing your hands in dirt, and my dragon informed me there was a hatchling in the Spine.

"Your dragon can speak with you?" Eragon asked, incredulous.

She nodded again. "Though she is almost two months old. My dragon spoke with pictures and images, and comprehended them better than words when she was younger. No need to worry, Eragon, your dragon will speak to you in time."

He smiled. "Come on," he said, tugging on her arm. "I want you to see my dragon."

Armelle smiled and followed him through the Spine.

 _Argenta!_ She shouted mentally. _Eragon is the new Rider. Find us and follow; we're going to meet his hatchling._

 _I see you,_ Argents replied, excitement that matched her Rider's own bubbling in her reply. _I'm on my way._

Eragon stopped in front of a small hut beside a tree, and knelt to poke his head inside. He looked up at the tree, frowning.

"Eragon," Armelle said with a smile. "I think I found your dragon." She watched a sapphire blue dragon hatchling bouncing on a branch above her head, squeaking and flapping its wings happily.

He looked over and smiled, the hatchling floating down to his outstretched arms.

Argenta landed behind Armelle, her long neck stretching her height far above the tall half-elf's.

"Whoa," Eragon breathed with wide eyes.

The dragon shimmered with light bouncing from her silver scales, casting rainbow reflections in the shade of the tall trees around them. Her metallic gaze of the same color landed on Eragon, examining him with slitted black reptilian pupils. She tucked her leathery wings against her her scaled flank, the large plated scales on her belly a much paler silver than the shiny, polished coin-like scales covering the rest of her.

"She's beautiful," Eragon commented, looking at her with large eyes that were filled with admiration. "How old is she?"

"She hatched two days before my father and I arrived at Carvahall." Armelle replied, stroking Argenta's scales as she blew a puff of smoke from her nostrils in a smug manner. "Though she seems a bit small for her age, and I have yet to ride her."

"What's her name?" He asked, the hatchling in his arms squeaking as her large blue eyes examined the older dragon.

"Argenta," the half-elf replied, and the silver creature extended her long neck downward, closer to Eragon.

He slowly reached out with his right hand, touching her snout with the hand that held his gedwëy ignasia.

 _So it's true,_ Argenta said softly, the few suspicions she held gone from her mind. _He is the new Rider._

Armelle ran her slender fingers down her silver scales, glancing at the dragon with a blonde eyebrow raised. _You doubted me?_

 _Never._ Argenta replied, adjusting herself to a more comfortable position before lying down. Her Rider sat and nuzzled herself into the bend of her hip, stroking the leathery membrane of her silver wings. Argenta's spiked tail swung around and wrapped them closer together.

Eragon sat on the outside of the barrier her tail had created, and let the blue hatchling down from his arms, and she nuzzled against his leg.

The next weeks were spent like this; the two new Riders together, their dragons growing at quick paces as they learned more and more about each other and their dragons. They were becoming the new generation of Dragon Riders.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey my readers! I do not own** ** _Eragon_** **or any of its canon characters. I promise the chapter after this will be something that's actually from the book. Hope you enjoy!**

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It had been two more weeks, and Brom and Armelle's father decided to start training her in magic and what it encompassed. She practiced daily with simple spells, which she was becoming increasingly good at, and when she wasn't, she was spending time with Argenta. Most days, when had had finished with his chores, Eragon would join her and spend time with his hatchling.

One day, Armelle was sitting in the Spine with Argenta, leaning against her belly, which emanated warmth in the cool winter air. The half-elf was anxious for her first ride, but she wasn't sure the silver dragon was large enough.

 _Armelle,_ Argenta said quietly, nudging her Rider gently with her snout. _Would you like to see what it's like to fly?_

The teen turned on the dragon with wide silver eyes. "Really?" She asked aloud, too shocked to hold her reply inside.

The dragon stood, angling herself so Armelle could pull herself onto her scaly back.

She did, holding onto one of Argenta's ivory spikes and pulling herself up.

Once she was settled, Argenta looked back at her with her own soft silver eyes, and said, _Hold on._ She leaped into the air, her strong legs sending her high before she flapped her powerful wings, climbing higher and higher into the sky. Each movement of Argenta's muscles shifted her scales, which peeled off the skin of Armelle's inner thighs layer by layer, but she was too ecstatic from their first flight to notice the stinging that had nestled there.

Argenta caught an updraft with her wings, angling them to take her even higher.

Armelle laughed from excitement, and she could feel the adrenaline moving on her veins. "This is amazing!" She called above the sound of rushing winds in her ears and the steady thumping beat of her dragon's silver wings.

 _Glad you're enjoying yourself,_ Argenta replied with a toothy expression that almost matched a smile. She tucked her wings against her sides and shifted to a downward angle, hurtling toward the ground with her neck extended to form a torpedo shape.

Armelle gasped and grabbed onto one of her spikes, clutching it tightly to keep from falling off.

At about teen feet from the ground, Argenta's wings spread back out with a _whoosh_ as she floated back to higher altitudes.

Armelle didn't realize anything was wrong until she felt not liquid dripping from her inner thighs, down her calves. She glanced down and saw that her pants, now torn and ruined, were stained crimson. She swallowed hard, the adrenaline fading as pain spiked in her legs.

"I think it's time to land, Argenta," she said, and the dragon circled back around to the large tree where they usually sat.

The half-elf slid off the dragon, brushing her long golden hair behind her pointed ear so she could examine the injuries without the blonde strands in her way. The flesh was bloody and raw, revealing far past the layers of her skin and into her muscle. She gasped as the pain intensified, forcing her to sit and take the weight away from her injured legs. Her inner thighs looked as though she had rubbed them with a cheese grater.

Argenta laid down beside her, looking at her with large apologetic eyes. _I'm sorry, little one. I should have realized my scales would chafe you._

Armelle tried at a reassuring smile, but pain twisted it into a grimace. _It's alright,_ she replied, _I was too excited to think about any possible consequences. I will speak to Brom and my father to see if we can do anything to fix this newly aroused problem._

Argenta's regret flooded both of their senses.

"Hey," Armelle soothed gently, this time out loud. "Don't fret. That was the most fun I've ever had."

Argenta looked at her Rider with large silver eyes that were filled with swirling and churning emotions. _Really?_

The half-elf smiled, her windblown golden hair fluttering away from her face in a soft breeze. "Yes, really. I had always wondered what it would be like to fly, and now I know, thanks to you."

Argenta nuzzled Armelle's side with her snout gently, lovingly. _Thank you. I needed your reassurances._

* * *

After a few moments of them together, and after Armelle's legs stopped bleeding, Eragon slipped into the woods, his dragon following. Its height had grown so its shoulder rested level with Eragon's hip, and Eragon was anxious for their first flight, as Armelle had been for hers and Argenta's.

"Armelle!" Eragon called happily. "I'm finally here." He rambled on about his day until he noticed her bloody legs. "What happened?!"

Argenta laid her long head and neck flat on the ground, not looking at the two Riders.

"I flew on Argenta for the first time." Armelle replied, giving her dragon more silent reassurances. "Her scales chafed my thighs. I'm fine though."

"How are you going to get home?" Eragon asked, frowning. His dragon nudged Argenta and toyed with her, trying to make her feel better.

The older dragon hardly reacted, still upset by the fact she had injured her Rider.

"I might have to wait until nightfall, and have Argenta carry me to Brom's home." She answered Eragon after a moment, unable to cheer up her dragon.

Eragon sighed, looking to his sapphire blue dragon, who was still attempting to cheer Argenta up.

His dragon was now a fortnight old, and Eragon had decided to let it roam free to hunt and fly. His dragon tended to stay close to Argenta, idolizing the older dragon. Like Argenta's and Armelle's, Eragon's connection with it grew stronger daily, and he hoped to discover the dragon's gender as it did. Each communicated with images and emotions, though it was an imprecise method and Eragon was often misunderstood, much to Armelle's entertainment. His connection with it was growing, to the point they could reach each other from leagues away, but it paled in comparison to Armelle's and Argenta's. Like Argenta had, his dragon's squeaks had become roars, and its soft humming became a low rumbled as it aged, but neither dragons could breathe fire. Both blew smoke, but never spit a flame.

Eragon and Armelle chatted and sat with each other until nightfall, as Eragon was uncomfortable with leaving her in the Spine, though she wasn't alone.

Argenta had cheered up, playing with Eragon's younger dragon before he left to go home past sundown.

Once he had left, and the winter night was alight with stars and a glowing moon, Argenta knelt beside her Rider, letting her climb on, though each movement coursed pain through her grated thighs.

The silver dragon flew smoothly to Brom's house, landing beside the back door.

Armelle slid off, the scabs on her thighs torn open and bleeding again as her knees buckled with pain and she fell into the snow, staining it scarlet.

Argenta nudged her shoulder with her snout in apology, pushing her head underneath the half-elf's arm, supporting her with her neck. She smiled and ran her callused fingers across her silver scales. The dragon then growled and scraped the door with her scaly snout, trying to catch the attention of the people inside. When shuffling was heard from the house, Argenta slipped her neck out from under Armelle's arm and leapt into the air and flew high, gone from sight by the time the door opened.

 _I'll see you soon, little one,_ she said, her scales shimmering like a forming constellation in the moonlight.

Armelle smiled, steadying herself on her feet and shoving snow around to conceal the prints Argenta left along with mixing of bloody snow to make it fade, though more dripped as she mixed it, though more dripped as she mixed it, turning the snow pink, then to blossoming crimson.

The door opened and her father stood there. His hazel eyes widened, bright with worry. "Armelle," he whispered, stepping toward her quickly. "What did you do?!"

"I rode Argenta," Armelle replied with a grunt, pain throbbing through her veins like the adrenaline that had done so earlier that day.

Her father looped his arm behind her knees and lifted her bridal style, carrying her inside.

"Brom," her father called through the house. "Armelle has returned."

Brom appeared from another room, watching with a raised eyebrow. He noticed her bloody pants and flesh, and immediately started to boil water to clean the wounds with.

Her father cut around the bloodied sections of her pants with a hunting knife Armelle had never seen, but it looked much like the one she carried on her belt. He was skilled with it, never touching her skin and flesh with the blade as he removed most of the ruined cloth.

"Armelle," her father chided, shaking his head. "Don't fly with Argenta again until your legs are healed. You've made quite the mess this time."

Brom brought out bandages that had been boiled to sterilization and a warm wet cloth that had also been boiled to clean the blood away with. "What happened?" The old man asked gruffly.

"I rode Argenta," Armelle replied simply, gasping in pain as the cloth touched her skinless thigh.

Brom grunted, looking at her father. "I shall go to the tanner tomorrow. If the girl wants to ride, she needs a proper saddle."

Her father nodded.

"A saddle?" Armelle asked. "For a dragon?"

Both men ignored her, which frustrated her deeply, as they continued their conversation.

"We do not have time to build a molded one," Brom commented, "I will buy the materials and construct one tomorrow, but she still cannot ride until her legs have healed."

Her father agreed.

Once her wounds were cleaned, her father sent her to the guest room to sleep, giving her no choice in the matter.

The next day, Brom kept his word. He went to the tanner and bought enough leather to make a saddle. He sent Armelle out to measure Argenta's chest, the base of her neck, and her middle. When Armelle got back, she gave Brom the measurements and he built the saddle.

She took the saddle back to the Spine, showing it to Argenta, and left it in the tree she stayed beside, waiting for the day she could ride again.

By the end of the month. Argenta had grown so her shoulder was level with Armelle's head, and Eragon's dragon's height has reached his elbows at its shoulder.

 _Eragon,_ she heard an unfamiliar voice start one day while she was in the Spine with Argenta. The person being spoken of was leaving to go back home when it started.

It was his dragon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi readers! This chapter is actually from the book. Very informative, maybe not so interesting. And for those that actually care, I'm losing my wifi next week, so updates will be very slow, but I'll do my best. I do not own** ** _Eragon_** **or any of its characters. Only my OCs. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Armelle was standing in Brom's home, here at her refusing to let her go to the Spine, as the top layers of skin on her inner thighs were far from healed, and the flesh was extremely tender. There was a knock on the door, and she moved forward to answer it. She faltered when she heard Brom's voice outside the door. "What do you want, boy?"

"To get information," a younger male voice replied. Eragon. "Roran is getting a chisel fixed and I had free time, so I came to see if you could answer a few questions."

Th old man grunted, and the half-elf scampered noiselessly away from the door. "You might as well come in; we'll be talking awhile. Your questions never seem to end."

Th door opened, and Eragon squinted to adjust his vision to the darkness of the house. He assumed Armelle was in the Spine.

"Now for a light," Brom said, cursing as something fell to the floor. "Ah," he said a moment later. "Here we go."

Brom sat in his high-backed, carved chair and Armelle leaned against the wall by the entrance to the room, which looked like his personal study. Chairs were scattered around the room, holding piles of scrolls. Ink pots and pens were placed in strategic areas over a writing desk.

"Make room for yourself," Brom said to Eragon. "But by the lost kings, be careful. This stuff is valuable."

Eragon stepped over scrolls and pages of parchment covered in strangely angled runes. He gingerly lifted the stiff scrolls off of a chair and placed them on the floor, causing a cloud of dust to erupt. Armelle watched him stifle a sneeze and covered her mouth to silence her small chuckle.

Brom bent over the fireplace and lit it with his candle. "Good! Nothing like sitting by a fire for conversation." He threw back his hood to reveal his silver hair. He hung a kettle over the fire and settled into his high-backed chair. "Now, what do you want?" His voice a as rough, but not unkind.

"Well," Eragon said, and through the bond they had created she could feel his struggle to approach the subject. "I keep hearing about the Dragon Riders and their supposed accomplishments. Most everyone seems to want them to return, but I've never heard tell of how they got started, where the dragons came from, or what made Riders special—aside from the dragons."

"A vast subject to tell you about," Brom grumbled. He looked at Eragon with alert eyes. "If I god you the whole story, we would still be sitting here when winter comes again. It will have to be reduced to a manageable length. But before we start properly, I need my pipe."

Armelle watched from the doorway with glowing silver eyes, almost amber from the burning hearth. Brom glanced at her while tamping cardus weed into his pipe. She knew Eragon liked Brom, and Brom always told Armelle stories when she asked for them.

Brom used a tinderbox to light it. He puffed the pipe a few times before speaking again. "There... Now we won't have to stop, except for the tea. Now, about the Riders, or Shur'tugal as they are called by the elves. Where do they start? They spanned countless years, and, at the height of the power, held sway over twice the Empire's lands. Numerous stories have been told about them, most nonsense. If you believed everything said, you would expect them to have the power of a lesser god. Scholars have devoted entire lives to separating these fictions from fact, but it's doubtful any of them will succeed. However, it isn't an impossible task if we confine ourselves to the three areas you specified: how the Riders began, why they were so highly regarded, and where the dragons came from. I shall start with the last item."

Eragon settled into his chair and listened to Brom's voice, which had taken on an almost hypnotic tone. Armelle shifted to a more comfortable standing position to listen herself.

"Dragons have no beginning," Brom explained, "unless it lies with the creation of Alagaësia itself. And if they have an end, it will be when this world perishes, for they suffer as the land does. They, the dwarves, and a few others are the true inhabitants of this land. They lived before all others, strong and proud in their elemental glory. Their world was unchanging until the first elves sailed over the sea on their silver ships."

"Where did the elves come from?" Eragon interrupted. "And why are they called the fair folk? Do they really exist?"

Armelle laughed quietly as Brom scowled. "Do you want your original questions answered or not? They want be if you want to explore every obscure piece of knowledge."

"Sorry," Eragon replied, attempting to look contrite.

"No you're not," Brom commented, amusement lacing itself through his tone. He shifted his gaze to the fireplace and watched the flames lick the bottom of the kettle before glancing at Armelle. _May I tell him of your heritage?_ He thought to her, which startled the half-elf.

She nodded from the shadows. _I trust him._

"You should know elves are not legends, boy," Brom said, his gruff voice kind. "Armelle is half-elf herself."

Eragon's jaw dropped, and he started to splutter more questions.

Brom held up a hand, halting them. "Ask her later. If you want your original questions answered, listen now. But if you must know, elves are called the fair folk because they are more graceful than any of the other races. They come from what they call Alalëa, though none but they know what, or even where, it is."

"Now," he glared from under his bushy eyebrows to silence any more possible interruptions from Eragon. "The elves were a proud race then, and strong in magic. At first they regarded dragons as mere animals. From the belief rose a deadly mistake. A brash elven youth hunted down a dragon, as he would a stag, and killed it. Outraged, the dragons ambushed and slaughtered the elf. Unfortunately, the bloodletting did not stop there. The dragons massed together and attacked the entire elven nation. Dismayed by the terrible misunderstanding, the elves tried to find a way to end the hostilities, but couldn't find a way to communicate with the dragons.

"Thus, to greatly abbreviate a complicated series of occurrences, there was a very long and very bloody war, which both sides later regretted. At the beginning the elves fought only to defend themselves, for they were reluctant to escalate the fighting, but the dragons' ferocity eventually forced them to attack for their own survival. This lasted five years and would have lasted much longer if an elf named Eragon hadn't found a dragon egg."

Eragon blinked in surprise.

"Ah," Brom said, his tone slightly amused. "I see you didn't know of your namesake."

"No," Eragon replied slowly as the teakettle whistled. Armelle felt his confusion through the bond the two Riders had created over the months she had been in Carvahall.

"The you should find this all the more interesting," Brom said. He unhooked the teakettle from its placed above the fire, pouring the boiling water into two cups before glancing toward the half-elf and speaking out loud. "Would you like a cup of tea, Armelle?"

She stepped out of the shadowed doorway, her hair tucked behind one pointed ear, and nodded. She moved the scrolls from another chair and sat beside Eragon as Brom poured boiling water into another cup. He handed one to Eragon, and another to Armelle. "These leaves don't need to steep long, so drink it quickly before it gets too strong." Brom warned.

Armelle tried to sip the tea, but the heat scorched her tongue. She glanced at Eragon, smiling slightly when she saw his tea had done the same.

"No one knows why the egg was abandoned," Brom continued with his tale. "Some say the parents were killed in an elven attack. Others believe the dragons purposefully left it there. Either way, Eragon saw the value of raising a friendly dragon. He cared for it secretly, and, in the custom of the ancient language, named him Bid'Daum. When Bid'Daum had grown to a good size, they traveled together taking the dragons and convinced them to live in peace with the elves. Treaties were formed between the two races. To ensure that war would never break out again, they decided it was necessary to establish the Riders.

"At first the Riders were intended merely as a means of communication between the elves and dragons. However, as time passed, their worth was recognized and they were given even more authority. Eventually they took the island Vroengard for their home and built a city on it—Doru Araeba. Before Galbatorix overthrew them, the Riders held more power in all the kings in Alagaësia. Now I believe I have answered two of your questions."

"Yes," Eragon said, his voice distant. It was a strangely incredible coincidence that he was named after the first Rider, being the second of the new generation. "What does Eragon mean?"

"I don't know," Brom replied. "It's very old. I doubt anyone remembers except the elves, and fortune would have to smile greatly before you talked with one—" he glanced at Armelle "—a full one. It is a good name to have, though; you should be proud of it. Not everyone has a name so honorable."

Eragon looked thoughtful for a moment, wiping the thoughts of his namesake from his mind before frowning again. "I don't understand. Where were we when the Riders were created?"

"We?" Brom asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, all of us." He glanced at Armelle sheepishly and she knew what he meant. Half of her. He waved his hand in the air in a vague gesture. "Humans in general."

Brom laughed. "We are no more native to this land than the elves. It took our ancestors another three centuries to arrive and join the Riders."

"That can't be," Eragon protested with a frown. "We've always lived in Palancar Valley."

"That might be true for a few generations, but beyond that, no." Brom said gently. "It isn't even true for you, Eragon. Though you consider yourself part of Garrow's family, and rightly so, your sire was not from here. Ask around and you'll find many people who haven't been here that long. This valley is old and hasn't always belonged to us."

Eragon scowled and drank his tea as Armelle sipped at hers. This place was his home, Armelle knew that as well as Brom did, regardless of who his father was. "Wha happened to the dwarves after the Riders were destroyed?" He asked a moment later.

"No one really knows. They fought with the Riders through the first few battles, but when it became clear Galbatorix was going to win, they sealed all known entrances to their tunnels and disappeared underground." Brom explained. "As far as I know, one hasn't been seen since."

"And the dragons?" Eragon asked. "What of them? Surely they weren't all killed."

Brom's tone became sorrowful. "That is the greatest mystery in Alagaësia nowadays: Hoe many dragons survived Galbatorix's slaughter? He spared only those who agreed to serve him, but only the twisted dragons of the Forsworn would assist his madness. If any dragons aside from Shruikan are still alive, they have hidden themselves so they will never be found by the Empire."

Eragon and Armelle glanced at each other, wondering the same thing. _Where did our dragons come from?_

"Were the Urgals here when the elves came to Alagaësia?" He asked.

"No, they followed the elves across the sea, like ticks seeking blood. They were one of the reasons the Riders became valued for their battle prowess and ability to keep the peace... Much can be learned from this history. It's a pity the king makes it such a delicate subject." Brom reflected, his eyes shimmering as if he was reliving old memories. "Yes," Eragon replied, "I heard your story the last time I was in town."

"As did I," Armelle said, looking at Brom. Her father was out helping Horst with a few things while Brom was doing things around his home, and he had never told her histories like this. She was intrigued.

"Story!" Brom thundered, his eyes flashing dangerously in the flickering light of the hearth. Eragon and Armelle both cowered slightly. "If it is a story, then the rumors of my death are true and you are speaking with a ghost! Respect the past; you never know how it may affect you."

After Brom's expression sobered, Eragon asked, "How big were the dragons?"

Smoke swirled over Brom's head like a thundercloud, giving an ominous look. "Larger than a house," he replied. "Even the small ones had wings spans over a hundred feet; they never stopped growing. Some of the ancient ones, before the Empire killed them, could have passed for large hills."

Armelle's silver eyes widened in the light of the fire. _How will I hide Argenta?_ and she knew Eragon was wondering the same about his dragon.

She felt his internal rage as he asked his next question in a calm voice. "When did they mature?"

"Well," Brom scratched his chin, glancing to Armelle, who sat in her chair with large silver eyes that were shimmering with intrigue in the firelight. "They couldn't breathe fire until they were around five or six months old, which we as about the time they could mate. The older a dragon was, the longer it could breathe fire. Some of them could keep at it for minutes." He blew another smoke ring to the ceiling.

"I heard their scales shown like gems," Eragon commented.

Brom leaned forward, and his voice sounded in a growl. "You heard right. It was said a group of them looked like a living rainbow, constantly shifting and shimmering. But who told you that?"

Eragon froze for a moment before lying, "A trader."

"What was his name?" Brom asked with a frown. His wild eyebrows met in a thick white v-shape, and the wrinkles deepened on his forehead. Only Armelle, with her keen eyes, noticed his pipe smolder out.

Eragon pretended to think, and Armelle felt his heartbeat pick up through their Rider connection. "I don't know. He was talking in Morn's, but I never found out who he was."

"I wish you had," Brom muttered.

"He also said a Rider could hear his dragon's thoughts." Eragon added quickly, and Armelle could feel his hope toward the fictitious trader hiding him from Brom's suspicions.

The old man narrowed his eyes, taking out the tinderbox slowly and striking the flint. Smoke rose from the pipe as he took a long pull, exhaling slowly. "He was wrong. It isn't in any of the stories and I know them all. Did he say anything else?"

Eragon glanced back at Armelle before looking back to Brom. "No." The old man was too interested in this made up trader to continue with false comments. "Did dragons live very long?"

Brom's response has slow. His chin sank into his chest, his fingers tapping his pope as light reflected off of his ring, revealing a strange symbol, a symbol Armelle recognized as an elven one. "Sorry," Brom said, "my mind was elsewhere. Yes, a dragon will live quite a long time, forever, in fact, as long as it isn't killed and its Rider doesn't die."

"How does anyone know that?" Eragon objected with a frown. "If dragons die when their Riders do, they could only live to be sixty or seventy. You said during your... narration that Riders lived for hundreds of years, but that's impossible."

Armelle looked at him with sad silver eyes. He was thinking about outliving his family and friends.

A quiet smile graced Brom's lips in his sly reply. "What is possible is subjective. Some would say you cannot travel through the Spine and survive and live, yet you do. It's a matter of perspective. You must be very wise to know so much at such a young age." Eragon flushed, though Armelle thought reassurances to him, and the old man chuckled. "Don't be angry; you can't be expected to know such things. You forget that dragons are magical—they affected everything around them in strange ways. The Riders were closest to them and experienced this the most. The most common side affect was an extended life. Our king has lived long enough to make that apparent, but most people attribute it to his own magical abilities. There were also other, less noticeable changes. All of the Riders were stronger of body, keener of mind, and truer of sight than normal men. Along with this, a human Rider would slowly acquire pointed ears—" Armelle unconsciously touched her own ears, and, though they weren't as prominent as a full elf's, it was still easily noticed when touched or seen. "—though they were never as prominent as an elf's."

Eragon was touching his rounded ears as she was touching her pointed ones, wondering what else his dragon would change about him. "Were dragons very smart?"

"Didn't you pay attention to what I told you earlier?!" Brom demanded. "How could elves form agreements and peace treaties with dumb brutes? They were as intelligent as you or I."

 _You have met Argenta,_ Armelle thought to Eragon. _You have spoken with her. You should have known that._

"But they were animals," Eragon persisted aloud, replying in thought with an apology.

Brom snorted. "They were no more animals than we are. For some reason people praise everything the Riders did, yet ignore the dragons, assuming they were nothing more than exotic means to get from one town to another. They weren't. The Riders great deeds were only possible because of the dragons. How many men would draw their swords if they knew a giant fire-breathing lizard—one with more natural cunning and wisdom than even a king could hope for—would soon be there to stop the violence? Hmm?" He blew another smoke ring and watched it rise and fade away.

"Did you ever see one?" Eragon asked.

"Nay," Brom replied, "it was long before my time."

Armelle raised a blonde eyebrow at him, disbelieving. If he and her father had fought together as she had been told, he was lying to Eragon, but she wouldn't reveal him, not since he asked for her permission before revealing her lineage.

"I've been trying to recall the name of a certain dragon, but it keeps eluding me." Eragon commented, and Armelle knew that was his search for a fitting name for his dragon. "I think I heard it when the traders were in Carvahall, but I'm not sure. Could you help me?"

Brom shrugged and began spouting off names. "There was Jura, Hirador, and Fundor—who fought the giant sea snake. Galzra, Briam, Ohen the Strong, Gretiem, Beroan, Roslarb..." He added many others, whispering the last one so quietly Eragon barely caught it, but Armelle heard his whisper clearly with her elf ears. "...and Saphira." The old man quietly emptied his pipe. "Was it any of those?"

"I'm afraid not," Eragon replied. Brom had explained many things, and as open as Eragon's mind seemed to new information, it would be much to process. It was growing late as it was. "Well, Roran's probably finished with Horst. I should get back, though I'd rather not."

Brom seemed surprised, raising an eyebrow at the boy. "What, is that it? I expected to be answering your questions until he came looking for you. No queries about dragon battle tactics or requests for descriptions of breathtaking aerial combat? Are we done?"

"For now," Eragon said with a laugh. "I learned what I wanted and more." He stood and Brom followed, Armelle turning in her chair to watch them.

"Very well, then." The old man ushered Eragon to the door. "Goodbye. Take care. And don't forget, if you remember who that trader was, tell me."

"I will. Thank you." Eragon called back as he stepped into the bright outdoors, which lit the doorway with blinding heavenly sunlight.

Brom turned back around and looked at the sixteen year old girl after he shut the door. "Does he know about Argenta?"

She shook her head, lying.

"Good," Brom replied, his tone gruff once again. She was looking at him with a gaze of glimmering silver eyes, the gleam projecting a look of mischief. "What?"

"I want to know about dragon battle tactics and breathtaking aerial maneuvers." She replied in a quiet, almost sheepish tone.

Brom chuckled. "Very well, then." He sat back down in his elegantly carved wood chair and began another tale. And her love for his histories began.


	7. Chapter 7

**Holy moly, that last chapter was over 3,600 words. O_o. It took way too long to type, and it's not very entertaining. Don't worry. This one will be pretty short to even out that last bit of craziness. I don't own** ** _Eragon_** **or any of its characters. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Armelle had gone back to the Spine the next day, and her father didn't stop her, knowing better than to keep a Rider from her dragon too long, especially a Rider as anxious to see her other-half as his daughter was. And he knew it would be an intense challenge for he and Brom to keep her away, since Brom was of little help in any way other than distracting her with enticing tales and stories.

Armelle sat in the bend of Argenta's hip in content silence for a few moments, as they were just enjoying each other's company.

 _How are your legs, my sister-of-soul?_ Argenta asked, tapping the half-elf gently with her scaly silver snout.

 _Almost better,_ the Rider replied with a smile. _And now that we have a saddle, we should be able to fly together soon._

Argenta snorted a puff of smoke in agreement.

Eragon's dragon floated down toward them, speaking its single word over and over. _Eragon._

The Blue Rider had been apprehensive to return, realizing now that he and his dragon were of the same intelligence level, and that his friend had hidden the secret of her bloodlines from him. He only wanted to understand why being half fair folk was such an important secret to be held so close to her.

 _Eragon,_ his dragon repeated as he walked forward, the boy sparing a glance at Armelle, who lounged against Argenta while they watched with matching metallic eyes. Her golden hair was tucked behind her ears, revealing their pointed shape.

"Is that all you can say?" He demanded with a frown.

 _Yes,_ it replied simply.

Armelle laughed quietly and Argenta snorted smoke humorously.

 _Great,_ Eragon thought, unknowingly projecting it to Armelle and Argenta. _Now it has a sense of humor. What's next?_

 _Wisdom,_ Armelle replied. _As Brom said. Dragons are wise beyond their ages, and as they grow, so does that gift._

Eragon looked at her in surprise before she spoke aloud. "I'm sorry. I should have told you of the elf blood in my veins. We must trust each other, and my heart wanted to, but my mind would not let me give such a secret."

"Apology accepted," Eragon replied, though his voice didn't soften. "No matter your lineage, we are the new Riders, and, despite such a secret, I still trust you."

Armelle smiled, settling fully against Argents again.

A questioning tone emanated from Eragon's dragon, so he explained what had happened to the three around them. It was Roran's departure from Carvahall. His voice grew louder with his frustration until he was shouting at the sky with pointless aggression. He had spent all of his welling emotions then, and punched the ground. "I don't want him to go, that's all." He said with quiet helplessness.

His blue dragon listened intently, learning many new things.

Eragon changed the subject after a moment of silence between all of them. "You need a name. I heard some interesting ones yesterday; perhaps you'll like one." He ran through a quick list, not realizing he was counting through the names on his fingers. "What do you think of Valinor or his successor, Eridor? Both were great dragons."

 _No,_ the dragon replied, an amused tone in its voice. _Eragon._

"That's my name; you can't have it." He said with a frown while he rubbed his chin. "Well, if you don't like those, there are others." He continued through the list, and Armelle found it quite humorous as the dragon rejected each, and each was a male name. The teen looked at Argenta, who looked back at her. They knew. His dragon was a she. Sh was laughing quietly, just as Armelle and Argenta were.

Eragon only continued suggesting male names. "There was Ingothold, he slew the..." Realization finally struck Eragon, and he thought, _That's the problem! I've been choosing male names. You are a she._

 _Yes,_ his dragon replied, folding her veined blue wings almost arrogantly.

He blurted half a dozen names from the dragons of old. He suggested Miremel, but he and Argenta agreed with the dragons and saying that name didn't fit—it was the name of a brown dragon. Ophelia and Lenora were also removed from Eragon's list. He seemed so exasperated he nearly gave up before he remembered the last name Brom has said, had whispered in mention to them. He glanced at Armelle, who nodded in approval. The Riders liked it, and Argenta approved, but would his dragon?

"Are you Saphira?" He asked after a moment of hesitation. He met the gaze of the intelligent creature and Armelle felt her satisfaction through Argenta.

 _Yes,_ the dragon replied, her voice echoing as if it were from a great distance. Maybe it was only to Armelle, as he wasn't connected to Saphira.

Eragon grinned at her. The blue dragon started humming.

Armelle, Eragon, Argenta, and Saphira only grew closed from then on.


	8. Chapter 8

**I am sooo sorry it's been so long since I updated this story! I deleted my nook app and I realized I didn't have a paper copy of** ** _Eragon_** **. It was really stupid of me, but I bought a paper copy today, so I can try to update more often. I promise I'll try to do better.**

Armelle had spent her next few days in town, helping the town healer, Gertrude. She learned many useful things, like the correct herbs and tonics and medicinal plants to heal wounds and stay infection, which she knew could be useful, especially if Brom's suspicions of Armelle having little choice other than to join the Varden were true. Of the nights, she would sit with Brom and her father and listen to his stories of the great feats of the Riders of old, and, after her days of assisting Gertrude, she went to the Spine and retold Brom's tales to Argenta, and sometimes Saphira and Eragon, if they were there to listen.

Whenever Eragon or Armelle grew upset over something, they and their dragons were there for them as vents and balms for which their frustrations or other emotions escaped. Eragon and Armelle could never do for each other what their dragon's did for them. Argenta's thoughts were Armelle's, and vice versa. They understood no one better than they did each other.

Eragon had told Armelle about Roran's decision to leave, but she could only comfort and offer advice.

In the next weeks before his cousin left, Saphira and Argenta had both taken growth spurts. Saphira had grown twelve inches at her shoulder, which was now higher than Eragon's own. Argenta stood even taller, her chest centering at the same level as Armelle's head. The saddle Brom had made for her, when worn, was growing too tight to be hooked through the first hole.

It was a warmer day when Eragon discovered that the small hollow where Saphira's neck joined her shoulder was a comfortable place to sit. Armelle still preferred the gap between Argenta's hip, back leg, and flank. He would sit with the dragons and the half-elf and explain meanings of words while he scratched her neck. Soon she, like Argenta, understood everything her Rider said and frequently made comments. It was a true wonder; Saphira and Argenta were as real as any person they could meet, perhaps more so, but Armelle and Argenta understood each other on a deeper, more profound level as Eragon and Saphira did.

Saphira did wondrous things that left even Argenta impressed, and vice versa. Every day each revealed more aspects of who they truly were. On the day Saphira caught an eagle, and, instead of eating it, released it, saying, No hunter of the sky should end his days as prey. Better to die on the wing than pinned to the ground.

Armelle could only marvel in the wisdom of the creatures, and she learned from them as much as they learned from the Riders.

The day Eragon planned to tell Roran of Saphira, after much procrastination, Armelle was in the Spine again with Argenta. Her legs were healed enough for flight with the saddle. Her father, who could only live in memories of such things, had joined her in the Spine and thought it necessary that she test what Argenta was skilled at doing in flight. Argenta agreed, her silver wings rustling as she knelt for Armelle to climb in the saddle.

The half-elf did, gracefully bounding into the saddle and strapping herself in. "Ready, Argenta?" Armelle asked with a grin, glancing at her father, who watched with arms crossed over his broad chest.

She replied by leaping into the air with her muscular legs. Her wings shoved downward on the winds, sending her higher and higher. Far above the trees, Argenta evened her wings out and soared over the Spine, Armelle's long golden hair billowing behind her like a cape.

The half-elf smiled again, spreading her arms out to their full length. She called out into the sky, laughing with her silver eyes gleaming with her joy in the sunlight.

Argenta laughed, tucking her wings next to her side and diving through updrafts.

Armelle latched her grip onto one of Argenta's ivory spikes when the silver dragon hurled herself around, snapping out one wing for a strong gale to catch and send her spiraling. She then ducked downward quickly, firing down like an arrow straight from a tightly strung bow.

Armelle's weight shifted downward, her face almost colliding with one of the spikes on her dragon's back. She yelped, stopping with the bridge of her nose centimeters away from the sharp spine. "Careful, Argenta!" Armelle squeaked as the silver dragon snapped her wings back out, her front claws scraping the dirt as she launched higher into the air. "I need my nose!" She was jolted backward at the steep incline of Argenta's rise to the clouds.

 _Sorry_ , Argenta replied, though her voice was amused and far from apologetic.

Armelle tugged a scale at the base of Argenta's neck and the dragon let out a snarl of irritation. "Oh please," the Silver Rider replied, rolling her metallic eyes. "You deserved that."

 _Maybe_ , Argenta amended before soaring higher through the air.

The half-elf reached up and touched a cloud, her tan slender fingers cutting through the white water clustered in the sky. She tore the cloud in half with her fingers, and with one powerful beat of Argenta's wings, the cloud pieces drifted in opposite directions. Armelle laughed, her eyes bright as Argenta rose higher and higher.

They were in the sky for another half hour before Argenta thought it necessary for her to land and for Armelle to return to town.

After a few more minutes of them spending time together on the ground and Armelle's father critiquing Argenta's flight, Armelle and her father returned to town.

As they walked, Armelle noticed two strange looking humanoid figures covered in cloaks. Their backs seemed hunched and bent in a twisted manner.

"Father," she said warily, her voice quiet. She motioned to the figures subtly.

His expression turned cold, and he spoke sternly in his hushed tones. "Go back to Brom's quickly, and try not to draw attention to yourself."

"But I'm supposed to help Gertrude today." Armelle informed him quietly.

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he thought. "Alright," he said after a moment. "Go there and nowhere else. When she sends you home so she can retire come straight to Brom's and I will do my best to meet you there."

She nodded, and she turned to walk to Gertrude's quickly, but not so quick it would draw unwanted attention.

She arrived and helped her mix tonics and poultices, sort herbs, and organize her gauze and bandages. It was past sunset when Armelle finished helping her. On her way to Brom's, her path was cut off by the strange creatures, one in front of her and one behind.

"We need to ask you a few questionssss." The one in front of her hissed, stepping closer to her in a strange hobbling movement. She caught the strong stench of rotten meat on its breath.

Her mind expanded in a way she didn't know it could, and she quickly searched for her father's presence. "I don't believe I have the answers you are searching for." She said, stepping away from the one inching toward her, and backing into the other.

"You cannot know until we asssssk them," the one behind her spoke in her ear. She clenched her jaw and stepped to the left, away from other of the beetle-like creatures. Her heart slammed almost painfully against her ribcage as she backed away from the two… things.

"Armelle!" She heard her father call from behind the front creature. He caught up, shoving past the deformed creature and sighing in relief that only seemed half of an act. "There you are. I thought I told you to be back by now. I have searched all over town for you."

"I'm sorry," she replied sheepishly, and her father pulled her away from the beetle creatures and quickly walked with her back to Brom's.

"Are you alright?" He asked when they arrived inside, looking over her with his hazel eyes full of concern.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. What are those things?"

"They are called Ra'zac." Her father said briefly. "They seem to be searching for Argenta's egg, and another."

Armelle stopped breathing for a moment. _They were after Argenta and Saphira!_

"Armelle," her father said, looking up at her with stern hazel eyes. "Do you know something about this?"

She shook her head. "Only Argenta."

Her father's eyes narrowed.

Brom grunted behind him. "It doesn't matter. They'll be after her now, and use you both to find wherever that other egg went."

Armelle gulped. "What should we do?"

Her father shook his head. "We have to leave, but not yet. It would look too suspicious now. We will wait a few days, let tensions die down, and escape Carvahall."

Armelle nodded before hesitating. "What about Argenta?"

"Find her in the morning, and tell her of the plan. There is only one place we'll be safe, and it is far from here."

Armelle nodded again. "Yes, Father."

He kissed her forehead. "Try to get some sleep, my child."

She nodded and slipped out of the room, eavesdropping on her father's conversation with Brom.

"This cannot be possible, Devon. You know she knows who the second Rider is. If she gets injured or killed because she will not tell us who the next Rider is, then we cannot help either of them and all hope will be lost."

"I know," her father snapped, "but you already know that the other Rider is her friend in Palancar Valley."

"All the more reason to have them admit it," Brom replied quickly. "If we can be completely sure, then we must be. It is the only way to make sure the new generation survives."

Her father was silent for a long moment, but she was sure he was agreeing.

Armelle was pulled from her eavesdropping at a voice echoing in her head - Saphira. She must've been shouting for Armelle to hear her from such a distance. _Murderers!_ The Silver Rider almost hit her knees at the wave of bloodlust and fear that burst from the sapphire dragon. _Fire! Enemies! Murderers! Death!_

Armelle rushed out of the back door of Brom's house. _Argenta! Find Saphira. Tell me what's happening._

Armelle almost tumbled down the hill into Palancar Valley as Saphira tore at the ground and Argenta landed nearby, staying low to the ground so her mirror-like scales didn't reflect over the entire valley.

Eragon then did the dumbest thing possible—he grabbed Saphira's tail as it flicked near him, yelling for her to calm down, and the blue dragon leapt into the sky, with her Rider still dangling from her tail.

Armelle swung herself onto Argenta's back, into the saddle she thankfully still had on. _Follow them!_

Argenta leapt into the sky, following Saphira as she flew Eragon away from the Carvahall.


	9. Chapter 9

Argenta landed as Saphira skipped a step to regain her balance, and Eragon slid off of the blue dragon before she could fold her wings.

Armelle slid off of Argenta before she folded her leathery silver wings. She caught Eragon just before he fell face-first into the frigid snow.

He gasped, and Armelle could feel his pain from the connection the Riders had made, and she knew how that felt from experience. His legs trembled violently from having held Saphira so tightly, and he forced himself to stretch out his pained legs, and then look down to them. Large blots were darkening the fabric, and Eragon almost ripped his pants from his legs to inspect his own wounds.

Armelle looked away quickly, her face starting to heat ever so slightly. She heard Argenta chuckle through their bond.

 _You have been working with the town healer, have you not?_ The metallic dragon asked. _How do you expect to be a healer if seeing a male anatomy causes such a poor reaction?_

Armelle threw a snowball at the silver dragon, hitting her in the snout.

Argenta snorted in annoyance.

Armelle turned around as Eragon pulled his pants back on to prevent himself from freezing. She caught him when he tried to stand and couldn't manage it.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice trembling from either cold or pain or both. "I wish they could breath fire." He whispered to Armelle as Saphira slipped over to her Rider's side, crouching low.

"Maybe," Armelle agreed. "But she can still keep you warm."

Armelle slipped free from Eragon, and he put a hand on Saphira's side, feeling her tremble as her fear burned through him.

He tried to settle her mind with gentle images that he unknowingly showed to Armelle and Argenta.

The Silver Rider moved back to her dragon, puffs of the frigid air escaping her mouth and nose as she breathed.

Argenta swept her large tail and cleared layers of snow from the ground, and did it again to remove what remained so her Rider wouldn't have to lay in the snow.

Armelle rubbed her hands together to warm them through her half-fingered gloves, coppery skin tone and golden hair the only colors on their side of the frozen woods. Saphira was the only color on the other side.

Armelle snuggled into Argenta's warm flank, and the silver dragon wrapped her tail around herself and her Rider protectively.

 _Why didn't you react like Saphira did?_ Armelle asked her dragon. I can tell that the strangers frighten you as well.

 _The murderers,_ Argenta started slowly, lowering her large head to the snow to look at Armelle with a large silvery eye. _They are after us, all four of us. I was afraid, yes, but I knew your father and the storyteller would keep you safe. Saphira knew Eragon had no one like that. I flew after her quickly because I knew that together we could keep you both safe better than only one could. And I could not protect Eragon without you being near. It seemed wrong._

 _Because he is not your Rider?_ Armelle questioned.

 _Because he is not my partner of heart and mind,_ Argenta corrected softly, and though they knew it meant the same thing, it was more intimate, better explaining the relationship. _I wanted you close if there was any danger._

Armelle smiled slightly. _I will always be here, Argenta_.

 _As will I, little one._

Armelle closed her silver eyes, but was unable to relax as she thought about what might be happening back in Carvahall.

* * *

Armelle woke up with a groan and a small shiver as she felt the silver dragon shift beneath her.

 _Good morning, little one_ , Argenta said softly, almost sounding as though she just woke up herself. She slowly retracted the ceiling made by her wing.

Armelle flinched away from the blinding glare of sunlight off of the white snow, closing her metallic eyes. "Morning," she said sleepily.

Armelle pushed to her feet and Argenta stretched like a cat, showing rows of razor-like pearly teeth as she yawned.

Saphira and Eragon had just begun to stir as well, and Saphira stretched as Argenta had.

Armelle moved to help Eragon up, and he directed her to a creek that had been frozen over in the winter.

Armelle broke off a branch and tore off twigs stemming from it to break through the creek, and then handed it to Eragon.

"A crutch," she explained, "so you won't have to depend on me to move."

He thanked her and took a draught from the cold creek.

She took a drink herself once Eragon was sated and hobbled away on his makeshift crutch.

Armelle moved back toward Argenta, glancing at the mountainous lay of the land. She recognized it through the memories she and Eragon had shared—this was where he found Saphira's egg.

 _We must go home_ , Armelle told Argenta quickly. I fear what had happened in our absence. _The monsters saw me, and if they see I am gone they will know something is very wrong_.

 _It is too dangerous,_ Argenta replied sharply, flicking her powerful tail anxiously.

 _Too dangerous?_ Armelle was shocked. _You're a dragon! A mighty creature that any enemy would run from. If something happened to my father because I was not there to help him—_

 _Would you blame me?_ Argenta suddenly hissed. _We are bound, Armelle. What hurts you, harms me, whether it be physical, emotional, or otherwise. I will not let harm come to your father. He is my family as you are, and as much as he is yours._

Armelle sighed. _I know. But we must go back. I cannot lose him_.

Argenta nodded and lowered herself into the snow for Armelle to climb on.

 _Eragon!_ Armelle called, looking to the Blue Rider that seemed to be arguing with his own dragon. _We must go back. Argenta and I are_ _leaving. You should return with us_.

Eragon nodded, looking as though he had just finished the same sort of argument with Saphira. He ripped his shirt to pieces and stuffed the fabric into his pants to cushion his already injured legs.

Armelle looked away again to give Eragon some form of privacy again.

Argenta leapt into the sky, followed by Saphira.

The two dragons soared fast and low, and Armelle crouched as close to Argenta's back as she could without impaling herself on sharp spikes to keep below the strong, frozen wind. The ground beneath them was a blur, and Argenta's powerful wings kept her in front of the younger dragon Saphira with ease.

They reached Palancar Valley in the early afternoon.

Armelle gasped when she saw Eragon's family farm set ablaze, black smoke pluming from orange flames.

 _Argenta! Land there!_ Armelle called to her.

Argenta obeyed, lowering herself enough for Armelle to slide off of her back.

"Uncle!" Eragon called frantically as Saphira landed. He rushed toward the flames.

Armelle grabbed him quickly to halt him, and Eragon shoved her into the snow in his frenzy.

Argenta growled sharply.

He rushed through the wreckage as Saphira walked around the house and came to his side.

 _Sorrow breeds here_ , she said, telling everyone in the valley.

Armelle pushed herself back up as Eragon started yelling at his dragon. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't run away with me!"

 _You would not be alive if we had stayed_.

"Look at this!" He screamed. "We could've warned Garrow! It's your fault he didn't get away!" Eragon slammed his fist against a pole, busting the skin on his knuckles enough so blood dripped down his fingers. He stormed toward the house.

Armelle and Argenta traded glances, sharing a feeling like they were intruding where they shouldn't be.

A moment later Argenta nudged Saphira and Armelle. _Look. Garrow could not have been taken from here. There are only two trails, two sets of prints._

Saphira conveyed the message to Eragon.

 _You're right!_ He replied, looking gratefully at Argenta. _He must still be here_.

"I will help you look inside," Armelle told Eragon quickly.

 _We will search around the building_ _and in the forest_ , Saphira told them.

Armelle and Eragon searched until they found an arm and shoulder revealed beneath a heavy beam. Both Riders tried to push it, and Armelle summoned all of the elven strength she could muster, but she couldn't budge it, even with Eragon's help.

"Saphira! Argenta!" Armelle called, straining to continue holding what little they had been able to lift. "We need you!"

Without a word, both dragons appeared, and Argenta took the beam from her Rider in her large jaws, straining as Saphira got beneath it and pushed it upward with a mighty effort.

Eragon rushed beneath it, and Armelle followed. They both knelt beside the wounded man as Armelle examined him.

His skin was gray and dry, burning with a fever that sucked away all sweat. His lip was split and there was a long scratch down his cheekbone, but all of that seemed superficial. Eragon's uncle was covered in deep burns that were chalk white and oozed a clear liquid. A sickening smell like something rotting hung over him, and his breathing was short and ragged, shaking like a rattle.

Argenta growled lowly.

 _Murderers_ , Saphira hissed.

 _Don't say that._ Eragon argued. _He can still be saved! We have to get him to Gertude. I can carry him to Carvahall, though_.

"Argenta can," Armelle said quickly. "I will walk. Saphira can carry you and Argenta can carry Garrow."

Argenta made a motion with her head like a nod. _I will help how I can._

Eragon found a flat board and leather straps. Saphira poked holes in the board with her claws, and made sure Garrow was secure before they tied it to Argenta and Saphira took off.

 _Are you sure you will be alright_ , _little one?_ Argenta asked softly, looking at Armelle with a large silver eye.

Armelle patted her jaw. "I'll be fine. No time to waste. Get Garrow to help."

 _I may be seen._

"It doesn't matter. We'll have to leave anyway."

Argenta took off into the air, and Armelle started up the hill.

Armelle rushed toward Brom's home, trying desperately to find her father and praying to whatever was out there that he was alright.

"Father?!" She called when she reached the storyteller's house.

Her father appeared from the back of the house, seeming to be nursing an injured shoulder. His stressed expression turned relieved when he spotted her.

"Armelle," he said as he wrapped his only child in a tight hug. "Are you alright? Please tell me you're alright."

"I'm fine, Father." She said, holding him as tightly as he held onto her. "What happened to your shoulder?"

"The Ra'zac," he explained, loosening his hug just enough to look at her, tucking her long golden hair behind her ear as he examined her for any sort of injury. "They tried to interrogate me about you after you disappeared, and I thought they had taken you." He paused for a moment, holding her by her elbows gently. "How did you escape?"

"Argenta," Armelle explained softly. "She flew me into the Spine."

Her father looked torn between questioning her more and finding Argenta and kissing her. "You've got a smart creature, girl."

"I should tell you," Armelle said softly, "I know who the other Rider is. The egg has been hatched for a period of time now. The other Rider is the boy we met on our way to Carvahall, the one in the valley. His farm was burned down by the Ra'zac and his uncle is barely alive."

She paused a moment. "Where's Brom?"

"He suspected it was Eragon," her father admitted. "After we were attacked, he saw the dragons fly overhead and he went to help so Argenta and his dragon could return to hiding for their safety."

"I should go help Gertrude," Armelle said quietly. "I'm sure she will need the extra hands."

Her father nodded, closing his hazel eyes and kissing his daughter's forehead. "Go. But be careful."

Armelle nodded and grabbed her black cloak with a silver latch—the one that belonged to her mother—before rushing out of the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Armelle stood beside Gertrude's chair where she rested after two full days of trying to heal Eragon and Garrow. Armelle mixed healing herbs for the rotund woman, sharing a dream with Eragon as he laid unconscious on the bed.

 _He watched as a group of people on proud horses approached a lonely river. Many had silver hair and carried tall lances, but one of the same tall stature had hair of almost glowing gold. A strange, fair ship waited for them, shining under a bright moon. The figures boarded slowly; two of them, taller than the rest, walked arm in arm. Their faces were obscured by cowls, but he could tell that one of the two was a woman. They stood on the deck of the ship and faced the shore. A man stood on the pebble shore with the golden-haired woman, the only two that had not boarded the ship. The man threw his head back and let out a long, aching cry. As it faded, the ship glided down the river, without a breeze or oars, out into the flat, empty land. The vision clouded, but just before it disappeared, Eragon glimpsed three dragons in the sky._

Armelle glanced at Gertrude, making sure the woman was still asleep with her ball of woolen thread and knitting needles sitting in her lap.

When Eragon stirred awake, Armelle smiled slightly at him. _I'm glad you're awake_.

Eragon nodded slightly before Gertrude stirred.

She opened her sparkling eyes and spoke in a rich and warm voice. "Oh, you're awake. Good! How do you feel?"

"Well enough," Eragon replied, "where's Garrow?"

"Over at Horst's," Gertrude started to explain. "There wasn't enough room here for both of you. Thank the gods for Armelle, though. Without her the two of you would have kept me on my toes even worse than I already have been."

Armelle didn't acknowledge. She didn't feel like she'd done much of anything.

"How is he?" Eragon asked after a moment.

"Not good," Gertrude said after a moment of hesitation. "He has a fever that refuses to break and his injuries aren't healing."

"I have to see him," Eragon tried to get up and Armelle pushed him back down for Gertrude, though her muscles were still sore from trying to lift the large beam.

"Not until you eat," Gertrude said sharply. "Armelle and I did not spend all this time sitting by your side so you can get back up and hurt yourself. Half the skin on your legs was torn off and your fever broke only last night. Don't worry yourself about Garrow. He'll be fine. He's a tough man."

Gertrude hung a kettle over the fire and began chopping parsnips for soup.

"How long have I been here?" Eragon asked after another moment, that time looking at Armelle.

"Two full days," she said quietly.

His eyes blew wide. _Two days! And you've been here with me all this time?_

Armelle nodded slightly.

 _Saphira! She and Argenta have been alone all this time; I hope they're alright._

 _They are fine. They have been caring for one another._

"The whole town wants to know what happened," Gertrude started again. "They sent men down to your farm and found it destroyed."

Eragon nodded slowly—apparently he had expected that much.

"Your barn was burned down… Is that how Garrow was injured?"

"I… I don't know," Eragon admitted. "I wasn't there when it happened."

"Well, no matter. I'm sure it'll all get untangled." Gertrude resumed her knitting while th soup cooked. "That's quite the scar on your palm."

Eragon clenched his hand, and Armelle did the same thing out of reflex.

"Yes…"

"How did you get it?"

"I've had it ever since I can remember," Eragon answered slowly. "I never asked Garrow how I got it."

"Mmm." Gertrude hummed in thought.

Armelle clenched her left palm again, standing to grind more herbs for Gertrude.

"That's enough for now, Armelle," Gertrude told her gently. "You can take a break, go check on your father."

"It's alright, ma'am." Armelle assured. "I will stay and help you with what you need."

Gertrude poured Eragon some soup before she tried to force Armelle to eat. "You haven't eaten since yesterday evening, child," the healer protested when Armelle didn't accept the fresh soup. "Take something, or I'll be nursing you in that bed next."

Armelle sighed and took a small bowl from Gertrude with a thankful glance. She knew that she wouldn't have eaten unless she was forced to, despite that she needed food as often as anyone else, half-elf or not.

Eragon was finished long before Armelle was, but impatiently waited until she was finished to ask to go see his uncle again.

Gertrude sighed. "My, you are a determined one. Well, if you really want to, I won't stop you. As long as you take Armelle with you, so she can tend to you if you fall, or take care of your uncle with Elain."

Armelle nodded and stood up from the end of the bed, helping Eragon to his feet, turning away as he moved to pull his pants over his bandaged thighs.

Gertrude almost chuckled at the sight before Armelle took ahold of Eragon again and helped him from the room.

The rotund woman followed out the teens, making sure that Armelle was stout enough to support Eragon from the room.

Armelle tucked her cloak over Eragon and herself as they entered the blustery air.

 _Thank you,_ Eragon said quietly.

Armelle nodded slightly. _Well, I couldn't let you freeze out here. And I'm feeling selfish enough to keep some of my cloak for myself, so I compromised._

Eragon smiled slightly.

Smoke blew down from chimneys all around Carvahall in the cold wind, and storm clouds made the Spine elusive and concealed the valley while snow advanced toward the foothills.

Eragon leaned a little heavier on Armelle as they made their way through with Gertrude following behind.

They reached Horst's home, and Armelle was in awe of the large house again, not for the first time since she and her father arrived in Carvahall. It was nothing like her tree-like home on the outskirts of Osilon, nor like Brom's cabin, which was meager in comparison to this. Horst had left no stone unturned with his skill in building the best possible home he could. The shake roof shadowed a railed balcony that stretched from a tall window on the second floor. Each water spout was a snarling gargoyle, and every window was framed by carvings of different things from nature—serpents, harts, ravens, and knotted vines.

The door was opened by Horst's wife, Elain, who was small and willowy with refined features and silky blonde hair—lighter than Armelle's striking golden blonde—which was pinned back into a bun. Her dress was neat and her movements were graceful. "Please, come in," she said softly.

Armelle helped Eragon over the threshold and into a well-lit room. She had been inside once before, to check on Garrow for Gertrude, but the splendidness of the interior was still foreign to her in some ways, as she was used to a more nature-esqe appeal like the elves lived in, like she had lived in. A staircase with a polished balustrade curved elegantly down to the floor, and the walls were colored like honey.

Elain gave Eragon a sad smile, but spoke to Gertrude. "I was just about about to send for you. He isn't doing well. You should see him right away."

"Armelle, you'll need to help Eragon up the stairs," Gertrude said before she started up them, hopping two at a time.

"It's okay," Eragon assured, "I can do it myself."

"Are you sure?" Armelle asked.

He nodded.

"Alright," Armelle sounded doubtful, "but I'm going to follow you up to make sure you don't fall."

Eragon made an exasperated face.

"Don't look at me like that," Armelle ordered in a quick tone.

Eragon raised his arms in surrender, smiling slightly.

She rolled her eyes, returning the small expression.

Eragon started up the stairs, and Armelle followed him up, pushing him gently back to a straight position when he began to waver. She opened the door for Eragon and he walked inside, spotting his uncle lying on the bed. His skin was gray and deathly. The wounds all over him seemed to ooze a clear liquid, and they refused to heal. His breathing was ragged and shallow, like his unconscious form was forcing every breath by the strength of the man's will, and his body burned with a fever.

Armelle stepped over to Katrina, taking her place in crushing herbs for a poultice to place on Garrow's wounds. A bucket of ice water with a cloth inside sat by Armelle's feet once she walked over to replace Katrina.

Eragon looked at Gertrude for a moment before turning to Armelle. "Can't she do anything about these?"

Armelle sighed, pausing her crushing of herbs to look at Eragon with soft silver eyes. "Gertrude has tried everything she knows. Salves, poultices, and tinctures, but nothing has worked. If the wounds closed he would stand a better chance. Still, things may turn for the better. He's a tough man."

Eragon sank into the floor after moving to a corner. He stared blankly at the bed. Katrina put her arm around him after a while, but when he didn't react she left.

Armelle looked at him sadly, finishing crushing her herbs before she moved to sit beside the Blue Rider. She didn't speak, just opened herself to him and let her presence comfort him the best it could. She had no words to help him; she had lost her mother when she was a toddler, and she was familiar with the pain of losing family, but she knew it wasn't the same.

Sometime later the door opened, and Horst entered. He slipped over to speak with Gertrude in low tones before he moved over to Eragon and Armelle.

"You need a break," he told both teens to console them, "and fresh air. Don't worry, you can go back soon enough."

Eragon begrudgingly let the smith lead him down the stairs, and Armelle followed them with soft steps that barely made a noise on the steps.

Armelle was surprised to see two young men that she didn't know speaking with Elain. She kept her head down to try and avoid the attention of the men she hadn't yet met.

"Armelle," Elain called softly. "Take a break, child. Come meet my sons, Albriech and Baldor."

Armelle hesitated before walking over to them. She greeted them quietly and made as much small talk as she could stand before there was a knock on Horst's door.

Elain moved from her sons to open the door, and standing in the doorway was Devon, her father.

"Oh, hello, Devon," Elain said in surprise. "Are you here for Armelle?"

"Yes, I am. I would like to speak with her and Eragon if that's alright."

Elain nodded. "Come inside. I'm sure that snow is not pleasant to walk through."

"Thank you, ma'am," her father said politely.

Armelle hurried over to the blonde man, thankful to see her father again, but unsure on what he wanted with Eragon.

She called Eragon over and the three of them moved on to a separate room.

"Alright, I want the truth from both of you," her father started once they were out of anyone's earshot. "What happened?"

Eragon hesitated for a long moment, glancing at Armelle.

"He knows," Armelle said softly. "He guessed it before I got your permission to tell him. Brom told him of all the questions about dragons."

Eragon swallowed hard and nodded slowly before he and Armelle worked together in recounting the tale of what their dragons had done, what they found at Eragon's farm, and how they got Garrow to safety with Gertrude.

Armelle's father didn't speak for a long period of time, only nodding slowly as he processed information. "Go check on your uncle," he told Eragon.

Eragon nodded and moved to waddle back up the stairs.

Her father turned to Armelle. "You know his uncle will not survive."

"I do," Armelle said sadly.

"We must be prepared to leave when it happens. It is too late to separate the two of you, now that you have met. The new generations of Riders has begun, and you are as important as he is."

Armelle didn't speak for a moment. When she did, she wasn't entirely sure what to ask except, "Where are we going?"

"To hunt the Ra'zac, as Eragon will want to."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Hey guys, I'm back! I know this chapter's really really short but it was really short in the book too so don't be mad at me please! The next chapter will be much longer.**_

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Armelle stayed with Gertrude to help her through the rest of the night, while Eragon and Katrina slept nearby to be near Garrow just in case he recovered or passed into the void that night.

Eragon entered the crowded room in a hurry, so anxious it was making Armelle shift where she stood.

Armelle stood back out of the way from the people clustered around the bed—she didn't know Garrow as well as the people native to Carvahall, and though he had always been kind to her, she did not have quite the reason to mourn the death of Eragon's uncle. He laid on the bed peacefully, redressed in nicer clothes, his hair combed and his face serene. He looked as though he were resting if it weren't for the sprig of hemlock and the silver amulet on his chest, the last gifts of the living to the dead.

Katrina was closest to the bed, with her eyes downcast and her face pale. "I had hoped to call him father one day." She said softly, sadly.

Eragon's shocked thoughts and emotions turned to bitter so strong that Armelle was almost caught off guard through his connection to her, though she understood why. That was a luxury that the man who raised him couldn't even give him. Eragon only stared at his uncle's face, and Armelle could feel the crushing weight of his grief so forcefully she wanted to cry for him, but Eragon never cried out, even as he trembled with tears slipping down his cheeks.

Armelle moved to lead him back to his room, though she was sure he didn't know who had done so.

Eragon fell onto the bed once they returned to it, and he wrapped his arms around his head to conceal his convulsing sobs.

Armelle flinched at the sound and his overwhelming grief. She had to leave the room because there was nothing she could do, and that upset her more than anything. Though she had experienced loss of her own with her mother, she hadn't lost the entirety of the family she had like the Blue Rider. She knew that it was not her place to try and console him.

As she exited the room, Eragon turned his tear-stained face to the sky and shouted, "What god would do this? Show yourself!" She slipped out of the way as people ran to Eragon's room. "He didn't deserve this!"

Elain sat beside Eragon as Armelle slipped away, tears slipping down her own cheeks in sorrow and helplessness.


End file.
